Pop Quiz
by Poignant Ignoramus
Summary: Set the day after the makeout session from Mash Up. Rachel establishes the nature of her relationship with Puck by way of a little quiz. Puckleberry one-shot, Puck's POV. Rated T for language.


**A/N-** My very first story! Puckleberry, from Puck's POV. Just a short oneshot from an idea that popped in my head. Rated T, although Puck's mind dips into the gutter a tiny bit. Enjoy!

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**Pop Quiz**

I'm sitting at a lab bench by myself, waiting for the teacher and thinking about – well nothing really. I don't know what the hell got in to Hudson, but I don't do any of that pansy ass shit with feelings. I mean, I'm a fucking stud. _And after last night, __she__ would know_, I thought with a smirk.

I was reminiscing over my memories of last night's 'activities', when a waft of a familiar scent blew past me. I snap my head up to look for the wearer of that fruity perfume, turning my head both ways. I finally catch a glimpse of her dark shiny hair in a corner across the room as she sets out her binder and textbook, along with more pencils, pens and markers than I have ever seen together in my life. All of them were aligned perfectly. The thought that she lined them up with a ruler crossed my mind. _Leave it to crazy Berry to do shit like that,_ I chuckled. _A place for everything and everything in its place, _my mom would say.

She must have felt my eyes on the back of her head, because she turned around and gave me a pointed look. After giving her a lewd look and a wink, I watched as her face flushed and she looked away in embarrassment. _Funny, _I thought, _that blush looks similar to the one she wore last night, after_… I stopped my thought before I'd have an 'accident' in class. (Not that I had Finn's problem, mind you, I just didn't want to be uncomfortable for this science lecture.)

Looking down, my eyes were surprised to see pink. Adjusting my vision, I realized that there was a sheet of pink paper on my desk. The header read '**From the desk of **_**Rachel Barbara Berry**_.' _She has her own stationery. Complete with a fucking gold star. Not surprising, actually._ Mulling this new piece of information over, I looked at what was printed on the page.

POP QUIZ.

I, _, think…

Rachel Berry is cute. Agree or disagree?

Rachel Berry is 'hot'. Agree or disagree?

I would go out with Rachel Berry. Agree or disagree?

I would like to be Rachel Berry's significant other. Agree or disagree?

Rachel Berry is absolutely 'batshit crazy' for doing this. Agree or disagree?

Smirking, I filled in my name and circled agree to all of these questions. While reading the last statement, I imagined how painful it must have been for her to type 'batshit crazy'. Maybe I was having a real influence on her.

I noticed a note on the bottom, informing me that the 'quiz' would be picked up at the end of class. Not satisfied with the wait, I quickly folded the paper into an airplane and flew it over to Rachel. _Bingo._ She felt the prick in her side and unfolded the paper, smoothing the creases. I knew that I had annoyed her by the crinkle that appeared momentarily between her eyes, but that soon disappeared as she eagerly read my responses.

I knew when she saw the last response because her jaw dropped slightly and her eyebrows drew together. Choosing one of her red pens, I saw her scribble quickly on the paper, crumple it into a ball and toss it at me.

_Nice aim, Berry_. The paper had hit me square in the chest and I saw Rachel's smile slightly, proud of her achievement. I flattened the paper and saw that she had marked my paper. At the top, a large A was circled, with 80% written beside it. Predictably, I had gotten the last question, mentioning 'batshit crazy', wrong.

Beside it, there was a small paragraph of red which read, 'Noah Puckerman, where do you get the audacity to describe me in such a demeaning, desultory manner? I'll have you know that I am exceptionally gifted and intelligent and have use of all of my mental faculties. A comparison between me and the excrement of flying mammals is by no means acceptable. As happy, no, ecstatic as I was to see that you clearly are making the appropriate decision to be my boyfriend, this is extremely insulting. For this reason, your answer to this question is clearly incorrect.'

Even though I couldn't understand some of Rachel's crazy rant, I had to wonder if she was serious and I felt a twinge of guilt. That was until I turned the page over to hide the red paragraph. It was only then that I saw a line at the top of the page. It was written neatly, but in the same red ink. It read, 'If you would like to boost your mark, you are free to meet me after classes to apologize for calling me batshit crazy. –Rachel Berry'

I'd apologize alright. Just not with words. I couldn't wait for the end of the day. _Just you wait, Berry. I'll get you._

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**A/N-**Well there it is. Reviewing would be highly appreciated!


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